“That didn’t tell us very much,” Betty said once they were driving away from Blake Owens’s construction company.
Henry didn’t agree. Their meeting with Owens had told him a lot. “Do you know which houses Bauer has built for your father?”
“Yes, I can show you if you’d like.”
“How many are there?”
“Four, but I could only show you three. Father and James will most likely be at the fourth one, because it’s still being built.”
“Is it close to the others?”
“I’m not sure. I know where the three are because my sisters and I cleaned them after the construction was done. They are farther up the hill, past the one Mr. Owens built for Jack McCarney.”
“Does your father help James build the houses?”
She let out a sigh so long he had to glance her way.
Shrugging, she said, “I’m not sure what my father does. I believe he helps when they dig basements, because at times his clothes are very dirty.”
Henry didn’t know what to think of that. From what he understood, William Dryer didn’t seem like a physical-labor type of man, but Dryer did like money, and probably was willing to do whatever he needed to in order to make more—including using substandard supplies. It irked him that Dryer cared more about making money than he did his daughters. No father should be like that.
“Let’s take a drive up there.”
She nodded in agreement.
“How long have you been engaged to James?”
“Not long,” she answered, glancing out the side window.
Lane had told him that William had chosen James to marry Betty, for the pure fact that Bauer had money. James had inherited the building company from his father, but had also been working at it since he was a young man himself. Henry didn’t want anything about Bauer to be likable, which wasn’t like him. He wasn’t the type to be jealous of anyone, but whether he wanted to admit it or not, the hard ball that had formed under his ribs was jealousy. Pure and simple. He was going to have to get over that. Even if she didn’t marry James Bauer, she would get married someday, and it wouldn’t be to him. “You don’t mind that your father chose your husband?”
“I’ve always known that would happen. Father told us that when we were little.”
“And you agree with it?” He shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Maybe you don’t know me.”
“Maybe I don’t.” Tension was building in his neck and he knew why. She was so meek and timid right now, nothing like the Betty he’d gotten to know during their nights together. It was as if she was two completely different people. That at the mention of her father, the vibrant, fun-loving Betty was instantly overshadowed by a shy, timorous girl who was afraid to even speak loud enough to be heard. He hated the idea that someone had that much power over her. It reminded him of the orphanage, how children had been forced into submission until they were like a regiment of well-trained soldiers who never questioned the orders they were given.
“You’ll have to give me directions once we get to the abandoned house,” he said.
“All right,” she said. “You’ll just keep driving on that road for a couple of miles, then there is another road we’ll take. People live in two of the houses James built, but the third one is still empty, I believe.”
“From what Blake said, I assumed the houses were sold before they were built.”
She shrugged.
“Your father doesn’t talk much about his business?”
She shook her head.
“Not even to your mother?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell us if he did because...” Once again, she turned to stare out the window.
“Because why?”
“Because we are to be seen and not heard, nor are we allowed to listen. That’s why we are able to sneak out at night. We are sent to bed by seven thirty each night and not allowed back downstairs until breakfast.”
It sounded as if her life was stricter than his had been at the orphanage and school. “What about weekends?”
“What about them?”
“Isn’t your father home then?”
“No. Other than church Sunday mornings, he goes to work as always.”
Henry’s instincts earlier had been right. There was something very strange about William Dryer and his activities. He didn’t believe William was involved with Elkin, but for Betty’s sake, he was going to find out more.
Following her directions, he drove past three houses built by Bauer. From the outside, there was nothing shoddy looking about them. They were big, elaborate, from the looks of them, and sure to cost a pretty penny. Two were occupied and one was vacant, just as she’d thought.
He didn’t stop to investigate further; he’d do that alone, and continued to follow the road. She didn’t question him, so he continued to drive as the road made a large loop and eventually came out on the paved highway that eventually ran along the coastline.
“Wow,” she whispered as the Pacific came into view. “I haven’t seen the ocean in years.”
Surprised, he asked, “Why? You live within miles of it.”
She didn’t answer, and he knew why. She hadn’t lied about her father and his strict rules. Flustered at himself and all that she was deprived of, he pulled off the highway on the next road that would take them down to the beach.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To see the ocean.”
Her eyes lit up, even as she shook her head. “I should get home.”
But she didn’t want to. He could tell. “You will. We’ll only stay a few minutes.”
“All right.” She grinned then and pulled off her gloves while he found a place to park.
Still smiling, she held his hand as they climbed down a short, rocky, and weedy hill that led to the sandy beach.
She drew in a deep breath as they stepped into the soft sand. “I can smell the beach at our house some days.”
He laughed. “The smell of dead fish does carry in the air.”
She slapped at his arm. “I don’t smell dead fish.”
“What do you smell?”
Closing her eyes, she lifted her chin, smelled the air. “I don’t know. Faraway places. Freedom. Fun.” She plopped down on the sand and pulled off her socks and shoes.
He sat down beside her and took off his, as well. She’d already jumped back up and was halfway to the water by the time he’d rolled up his pant legs and stood. “Wait up!”
She laughed and waved an arm in the air. “Hurry up, slowpoke!”
He ran and caught up with her near the water’s edge and then walked beside her, making footprints in the wet sand.
She held her hands out at her sides and spun around so she was walking backward while facing him. “Isn’t this wonderful?”
It clearly was to her, and that was enough to make him agree. “Yes.” Seeing the transformation on her face was far more wonderful. The shine was back in her eyes, and on her face. So was a smile.
“I wish I could do this every day.”
He couldn’t tell her that she could right now, but that was only because of Elkin. When the case was closed, she could. “Why do you let your father hold such control over you?”
She frowned.
“That’s what he’s doing with his rules,” he told her. He knew all about being controlled by rules. The rules of order at the orphanage had been strict and the punishment for disobeying them had been harsh. Junior college had had another set of rules, and the Bureau another, but they were for different reasons. Not just for control.
“It’s his house, his rules.”
“You’re an adult. A grown woman.” The dreams, the memories of the night they’d made love, would forever live inside him, and right now, they were reminding him of just how perfect a woman she was, in every way. “Maybe it’s time to show your father that.” He’d done that, shown his adoptive parents that he was a grown man. One they didn’t need to provide for, or even care about. He would forever be grateful for what they had done, because his life would have been very different if they hadn’t adopted him, but he also had released them from being responsible for him in any way by keeping his distance.
She dropped her hands to her sides. Frowning, she shook her head, but didn’t say anything; it was almost as if she was shaking her head at herself, at whatever thoughts were floating around in that beautiful head of hers.
A gust of wind whipped around them and tugged at her hat.
He reached up, pulled it off her head, and caught the scarf as the wind untwisted it from around her forehead.
The wind then caught her hair, making it twist and tangle as it fell upon her shoulders, down her back.
He couldn’t help himself and drew her to him. Her arms looped around his neck and her body pressed up against his. Gazing into her eyes, he did the one thing he’d sworn that he wouldn’t do.
He kissed her.
Betty didn’t have time to think about anything before her body responded. Just like it always did when it came to him.
She was instantly alive inside. She’d missed that feeling almost as much as she’d missed him. When their lips separated, she sucked in air, laughed, and kissed him again.
She could have gone on kissing him forever, and might have, if he hadn’t pulled his lips off hers. His arms were still around her, and he held her there, tight up against him.
He was right, she was grown-up, and if she hadn’t had that bout of queasiness while in the car, she might have taken what he’d said into consideration. She couldn’t, though, because she was pregnant. Whether it was only five days, or ten, or twenty, she didn’t need the calendar to confirm that. She just knew it. What she didn’t know was what to do about it.
If she told him, he would provide for her. She had no idea what that might mean; it could be wonderful. It could be the exact opposite of wonderful, and she wasn’t sure she could take that chance. Life with James would never be wonderful, but it wouldn’t be dangerous. She was certain of that.
She didn’t like this. This balancing of right and wrong along with safety and danger, but that was what she had to do because it wasn’t just her. There was a tiny baby that she needed to think about. A little life she was now responsible for.
That was scary.
“I need to get home,” she said, releasing her hold on him and stepping back.
His chest rose and fell as he let out a long sigh. “Yes, you do.” He touched the side of her head, smoothed back her hair.
His touch made her nearly as breathless as when they’d been kissing. She hated herself for not being able to tell him about the baby, but she couldn’t. Just couldn’t.
He took ahold of her hand, held it as they walked back to where they’d left their shoes.
He took her hand again to help her stand up after they’d put on their socks and shoes, and continued to hold it as they climbed the hill. Every step was making her hate herself more and more, but she couldn’t tell him, because if she did, and he left, left her alone, her baby would be taken away. Forever.
Once in the car, and fighting hard to keep her emotions in check, she asked, “Are you going to look for Elkin now?”
“Yes.”
“You said last night that he is another FBI agent.”
“He is. Or was.”
“Does that happen often? An agent who flips sides.” That was how he’d put it when telling them about Elkin.
“No. It’s never happened before, not on this level. He’s been leaking information for years. But he’s been slick, a real mole—it wasn’t until Rex Gaynor was offed that he started to worry he might be found out.”
“A mole?”
“Yes, that’s what he’s referred to as. He’s gone underground, sneaking around, leaking secrets. Tipping off criminals.”
“Do they know he’s an FBI agent? The criminals?”
He’d pulled onto the road, and she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, at the spot on the beach where they had kissed. It was so bittersweet. Everything about her life right now was bittersweet. A baby. That should be such a joyous event, but she couldn’t share the joy that she did feel when she thought of having a baby. Couldn’t share that with anyone. She felt like a mole herself.
“Yes, I believe they do, but they won’t turn in someone who is keeping them from going to prison.”
“I suppose they wouldn’t.” She gathered her gloves and scarf and tucked them in her purse. “The FBI doesn’t bust speakeasies, that’s prohibition agents, so who do you bust?” She wasn’t exactly sure what she was trying to do, other than convince herself what she knew was true. That his job was extremely dangerous.
“Anyone committing a federal crime,” he said. “We were involved in the Burrows case because when the train was robbed seven years ago, a shipment of old currency that had been being transported in order for it to be destroyed was stolen off the train. No one was supposed to know about that money being on that train. Rex Gaynor claimed upon his arrest that Billy Phillips, his partner, is who had known about the shipment. Billy had died at the scene, so there was no way to discover who had told him about it. Until Rex was poisoned in prison. The case was seven years old, so for Rex to be poisoned didn’t make sense, until we discovered a piece of evidence that had been overlooked. That Vincent Burrows had been on the train.”
Dangerous, yes, but she also found it interesting. “You think Burrows had him poisoned?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Rex knew Elkin had worked on the case back then. I think Elkin had told Burrows they had to get rid of anyone who knew about the case. I believe Elkin thought the case was so old, that no one would care about a convict dying in prison. I know he was surprised when the review of the passenger list was brought up.”
“Do you think he’d told Burrows about the money seven years ago?”
“Yes, and I believe he was the reason a counterfeiting ring left that beach cottage, on the cove where you were digging clams, hours before we were about to bust them, and how a train robber in Kansas got the slip on us and is still on the loose.”
She’d removed her hat and was brushing the snarls from her hair, but stopped midstroke. “The beach cottage? That’s why you asked me...”
“Yes, it seemed too coincidental.”
A tiny tingle coiled its way up her spine. “You never knew about us sneaking out. You thought right from the beginning that I—”
“I’m sorry for that. You’re right. I never knew about you sneaking out, not until you told me. In my line of business, you question coincidences.”
She nodded. Not wanting to think how she felt about that right now, she asked, “Why do you think Elkin did it?”
“I don’t know. People always have a reason, though, one they’ve justified in their own mind, right, wrong, or indifferent.”
“What will you do when you find him?”
“Take him to Washington, DC, where he’ll stand trial, just like everyone else.”
The brush stalled in her hand. “Washington, DC?”
“Yes, to the agency headquarters.”
“And then you’ll be assigned to another case.”
“Yes, I will.”
She dropped the brush into her purse and picked up her hat. “Do you know where?”
“No, I never know.” He glanced her way. “That’s why everything I own fits in a single suitcase. It could be Washington State, Montana, Maine, Texas.” He shrugged. “Anywhere within the forty-eight states of the United States of America.”
Her stomach sank, and churned, for no reason. He’d just corroborated what she’d already known. “Do you ever see your family?”
He didn’t look her way as he said, “Haven’t seen them in over four years.” In the next breath, he said, “We’re here.”
She glanced out the windshield, saw a grocery store. “What are we doing here?”
“I told your father that I was taking you to buy supplies.” He gave her a wink. “Let’s go shopping.”
She waited until he opened her car door, then as he held out a hand to help her out, she asked, “You really like your job, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Yes, yes, I do. It’s the only part of my life that has worked out.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “My childhood prepared me for this. Of going through life alone, chasing down criminals fits into that perfectly. I don’t have to worry about anything except for getting the job done.”
“And moving on to the next one.”
“Exactly.”
She climbed out of the car with as much composure as she could muster. Her legs felt weak at the knowledge she was going to have to keep the most wonderful part of her life a secret forever.
They bought a variety of cleaning supplies, which they delivered to the abandoned house. There, he insisted she didn’t need to do any cleaning, now or later, and then he walked her home.
As soon as he left, it was as if the light went out inside her. It was like a switch that he could turn on and off. Even with sadness over what she knew had to be, while being with him today, she’d still felt whole, alive.
Although the tears were there, she didn’t cry that afternoon while baking, or when her father returned home with James in tow. She most certainly didn’t cry while eating the evening meal with James sitting next to her.
After the meal, while Mother and Jane cleaned the kitchen, she and James sat on the sofa in the front room. He was asking her about the wedding, the honeymoon, and it was making her head hurt, her heart hurt.
“I have no preferences,” she said, thinking about how Patsy hadn’t cared about her wedding for a very different reason. Patsy hadn’t cared because she’d been so in love with Lane, all she cared about was marrying him, not where or when or even what she wore.
“But you must have preferences,” he said. “It is to be the happiest day of your life.” His smile increased. “And night.”
Betty nearly shot off the sofa, but she didn’t. Instead, she changed the subject, “How long have you been building houses?”
“My entire life.” He sighed slightly. “But I’d never ran the company before, and when I inherited it, I—I, well, it was harder than I thought. I owe your father a great deal for helping me.”
That didn’t sound like her father. He never helped anyone. “Helping you how?”
“By partnering with me. I can design homes and oversee their building, but I wasn’t very good at negotiating costs of supplies and labor. Your father has helped with that a great deal.”
She could imagine that her father had. He believed he should get everything for as close to free as possible. Another thought entered her mind. “Is that why you’ve agreed to marry me, James? It was part of the negotiations, the partnership between you and my father?”
His face turned beet red. “I—I do want to marry you, B-Betty. I—I think you’re very pretty, and I think you’ll make a wonderful wife.”
He was being forced into this as much as she was. Father was the only one getting what he truly wanted. A partner who he could fully control. Just like he did her and her sisters. She was about to ask more, but Father appeared and told James it was time he left.
She almost felt bad for James at how he jumped to obey Father.
As she made her way upstairs, she wondered about that, and what it meant. Marrying James wouldn’t release her from her father’s rules. It would mean that she and her husband were both under his hand.
Jane knocked on her door shortly after she’d entered her room. Betty frowned as Jane walked in and shut the door. She was wearing a shimmering bronze dress and matching hat.
Betty shook her head. “We can’t go out. You heard what Henry said.”
“Yes, I did, and I saw the light out the window,” Jane said as she walked to the closet and opened the door.
“What light? What window?”
“The bathroom window.” She opened the closet door and then the lid of the cedar chest.
The chest was actually a hope chest. Instead of holding flapper attire, it was supposed to hold all the things she’d need for when she got married. They each had received a trunk upon graduation from high school, and gifts for their birthdays and holidays to put inside them ever since. Those gifts, sheets, dishes, and other household items were under her bed so her flapper attire was readily available.
More thoughts of weddings, of marriage, made Betty’s head hurt.
Jane held up a green dress with several layers of long fringe.
Betty shook her head. “What light?”
Jane dropped the dress and held up a black one.
Betty shook her head again and repeated, “What light?”
Jane dropped the black dress and picked the green one up again. “The one Henry is holding.” She carried the dress to the bed. “He’s standing out by the tree in the backyard.” Walking back to the closet, she added, “Waiting for us.”
Betty’s heart lurched. “He’s what?”
“Waiting for us,” Jane said, and knelt down, digging in the chest for the mate to the black shoe she held in one hand. “Now, hurry up—he’s been out there for half an hour already.”
Betty pulled off her dress. “Why do we have to change clothes?”
“Because Henry decided that we have to keep the same schedule as before. If we don’t, Elkin might think we are onto him.” Jane tossed the shoe toward her and then dug out a long string of black pearls. “I for one agree with him.”
“When did he tell you that?” Betty pulled the green dress over her head.
“While you were sitting on the sofa with the worm.” Jane dropped the pearls over Betty’s head.
Betty considered saying James wasn’t a worm and that he was being forced into this marriage just like she was, as she twisted her hair up and applied a quick brush of lipstick to her lips and mascara to her eyes, but knew Jane would argue the point.
Jane handed her a black hat that hosted an ostrich feather, and Betty stepped into her black shoes on her way to the door.
It had all happened so fast, that as her feet touched the ground, Betty had to hold on to the trellis to keep from swooning.
“Come on,” Jane whispered.
“Give me a moment,” Betty said. “I’m dizzy.”
“Again?”
Betty shook her head. “From getting dressed so fast.”
“Patsy said that happened last night,” Jane said. “That you almost fainted dead away.”
Betty pushed off the trellis. “Because I’d just heard Henry had been shanghaied!”
“Well, come on,” Jane hissed. “Before he gets shanghaied again waiting on you!”
Her light-headedness dissolved the moment she saw Henry at the tree, in one way. It increased in another because somehow, sneaking away tonight, with him at her side was more exciting than it had ever been. Everything was more exciting with him. The exact opposite of how things would be with James.
They took the tunnel to the Rooster’s Nest and as they walked, Betty thought how this was the first time she and her sisters would actually acknowledge they even knew one another while visiting a speakeasy. Other than the few slight warnings she’d had to give Jane or Patsy over the past several months, when it had appeared as if one or the other was about to go against one of the rules they’d put down, they’d rarely spoken to each other inside a tavern.
Jane was giddy at sneaking through the storage room, despite the number of warnings Betty gave her.
As soon as they, one by one, stepped out from behind the curtain, Jane nodded toward a table near the bar. “There they are.” With a giggle, she added, “And Rodney is playing the piano. He’s the best!”
Betty looked at Henry. He grinned as they made their way over to the table where Patsy and Lane sat.
“Ostrich ears, but this is so darb!” Jane said as the three of them sat down. “All of us out together.”
“That’s what I told Lane earlier,” Patsy said.
Betty smiled in agreement, even though there were parts of this she hated. Specifically, the reason they were all here. It wasn’t for fun. It was to catch a criminal.
As soon as a cigarette girl had placed two cocktails on the table, neither of which held alcohol, Jane took a sip of hers and then set it down. “So, where is he?”
Betty looked at Henry over the rim of her glass. He was still wearing the black suit and hat from this morning. It made him look official, but also handsome. Because he was so very handsome. The light, the warm and gooey feelings, he created inside her were all there, and she wondered how that could be. They should be gone, or at least hidden, because once that criminal they were hoping to catch was caught, Henry would be gone.
“It doesn’t work that fast,” Lane said.
“Horsefeathers.” Jane looked at Henry. “Do we have to sit here all night, or can we dance?”
“You can dance,” Henry said.
“Ducky.” Jane pushed away from the table. “Hate to have good music go to waste. I’m gonna find me an Oliver Twist.”
She was gone within a flash and, laughing, Patsy stood.
So did Lane.
“Excuse us,” Patsy said. “But I have my very own Oliver to dance with.”
They walked onto the dance floor hand in hand, and gracefully slid into a loving embrace. Betty couldn’t contain the sigh that pressed hard to be released inside her.
“Do you want to dance?” Henry asked.
“No, that’s all right.”
“No.” He stood. “It’s not all right.” He took her hand. “I can tell you do.”